


Borrow My Tiredness, Young Girl

by banshee_in_the_dark



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Martinski, Stydia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 02:38:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1411876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banshee_in_the_dark/pseuds/banshee_in_the_dark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Stiles awkwardly explains to Lydia why he can't sleep over at Lydia's because he needs his pillow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Borrow My Tiredness, Young Girl

Dating Stiles Stilinski is an exercise in frustration.

Sometimes it’s a good kind of frustration, the type that leaves her tingling in anticipation. He teases her endlessly, with a combination of sweet and dirty words and lingering touches here and there, most of them completely innocent and _public_ , like his hand splayed across her back as he guides her through an open door or offering her his hand to get out of his Jeep, but the result is always the same: her skin burns where he touched her and her insides flutter in very pleasant, breathtaking ways. Needless to say she hadn’t been expecting that at all from him when they started dating, but she can’t complain, really. Other times, however, he’s just exasperating to the point Lydia has to restrain herself from throwing something at his head.

This is one of those times.

“I’m just saying,” she enunciates her words carefully, making sure it doesn’t come off as a really big deal, when in fact to her it is. “My bed is bigger.”

Stiles swirls on his chair, facing her and momentarily diverting his attention from his computer screen and the extensive paper in Berserkers mythology he’s been reading.

And God, the way he looks at her sometimes. It’s like he still can’t believe she’s there, that she’s his (as he is hers) and his amber eyes glow with such love it nearly overwhelms her. They’re getting ready for bed, so she’s only wearing her panties and a soft tank top, sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bed and putting lotion on her legs. She warms up under his stare as he takes a moment to appreciate the view before he answers.

“Why do you want more space anyway?” he drawls. She loves him like this (she loves him _always_ ) when he’s so relaxed and at ease that all his frantic energy sort of evaporates. “I thought you liked cuddling.”

“I do like cuddling. We can do that just as well at my place. Besides,” she purses her lips and tilts her head to the side in a fashion she knows makes her neck look particularly long and delectable. She sees his eyes dart and linger to the line of her neck and lick his lips. Bingo. “You have your bed in a corner and in line with the door. That’s really bad for feng shui. We’d feel better energetically if we stayed at my place more often.”

Stiles eyebrows shot up so high on his forehead it’s comical. “Okay, random. I can move the bed,” he concedes easily and swirls back to his computer and Lydia exhales an irritated puff of air.

She moves until she’s sitting on her heels. “Stiles! Why don’t you want to spend the night in my house?”

He swirls back so fast he hits his desk, limbs flailing and knocking everything in his way until he stops. “I never said-“

“You _implied_ it,” she narrows her eyes, daring him to contradict her.

“Okay,” he stands up and crosses the short distance to the bed until he’s directly in front of her, bare feet padding softly on the carpet. She’s momentarily distracted with the sight of his shirtless torso and the sweatpants riding low on his hips, and no one can blame her, even in the context of a semi-argument. His shoulders are wide, the cut of his arms is a thing of beauty and it’s all defined, lean muscle. The flannel shirts he wears so often do a fantastic job of hiding what’s underneath.  She’s especially attracted to the soft tuft of dark hair on his chest and trailing south from his navel, but that’s a particularly dirty secret of her she’s never admitting.

Her attention snaps back to him as he sits next to her and takes her hand in his much bigger one. “It’s not that I don’t want to go to your place, I’m just more comfortable here,” a sudden look of panic darkens his features and he frowns. “Are _you_ not comfortable here?”

“No, that’s not it,” Lydia confesses, interlacing their fingers together. “I don’t really care where we are as long we’re together. I just think it’s odd how you never want to spend the night at my house,” she shrugs a little. “Is it my mom? Are you intimidated by her? Because she really likes you,” she assures him.

He shakes his head. “Your mom is awesome. It’s uh—” Stiles lets out a short bark of self-deprecatory laughter as a blush colors his usually pale complexion and extends all the way down to his neck. “It’s actually really embarrassing.”

Oh, now she _really_ has to know.

Lydia waits patiently as Stiles gathers his thoughts and visibly struggles with himself. After a moment he runs one hand through his hair, messing it even more than it already was after his shower, while the other simultaneously squeezes her hand. “I uh--” he clears his throat. “I can’t sleep without my pillow,” he confesses, his voice laced with frustration. “I just—It’s one of the annoying things I do and can’t help I guess. I have to take it with me if I’m going to be sleeping elsewhere. It’s weird. _I’m_ weird.”

She almost blurts out _“That’s it?”_ but she catches herself before she does. It’s obvious it bothers him and it’s a big deal for Stiles even if she thinks it’s a bit silly and childish (and _okay_ , kind of adorable too). The last thing she wants in the whole world is to hurt him.

Instead, she runs her free hand up and down his thigh comfortingly. “That’s okay. You can bring your pillow, I don’t mind.”

He smiles, shakes his head a bit, his thumb running circles on the inside of her wrist and sending involuntary shivers of anticipation down her back. “You’re probably thinking I’m such a dork right now.” His voice is a low rumble in his chest, and she can tell he’s still a little embarrassed, but she can also see how he’s gradually getting over it as they gravitate closer to each other. “That’s why I didn’t wanna say anything.”

Lydia scoots closer until she’s practically straddling him and his body heat seeps under her skin. She clicks her tongue and shrugs teasingly. “I already thought you were a dork,” he shoots her an incredulous hurt look and she catches him off guard as she plants her lips on his. He relaxes and responds to her after approximately 0.2 seconds and she sighs into the kiss, pulling him closer until she’s flat on her back and he’s a comfortable weight over her. “It’s one of the many things I love about you,” she breathes against his lips.

“Huh,” Stiles bites her lower lip and soothes the small ache with his tongue, making her melt under him. “Then I guess we can stay at your place next time.”


End file.
